


What we inherit

by Welcome_to_Latveria



Series: Kristoff Von Doom [2]
Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Familial Relationships, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Mutants, Platonic Relationships, tho rly it's canon compliance too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:08:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23547418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welcome_to_Latveria/pseuds/Welcome_to_Latveria
Summary: Kristoff is facing a dilemma: he thought that he was the only one in his family keeping a secret about himself, but it turns out Victor Von Doom has been keeping a secret about Kristoff too.
Relationships: Franklin Richards & Valeria Richards, Kristoff Vernard & Franklin Richards, Kristoff Vernard & Original Child Character(s), Kristoff Vernard & Valeria Richards, Victor von Doom & Kristoff Vernard
Series: Kristoff Von Doom [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694635
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	What we inherit

**Author's Note:**

> LADS GUESS WHO'S BACK?!?!?!
> 
> Anyways the idea for this came around because like... the drama & also I was thinking about the inheritance pattern of the X-Gene so I hope u all enjoy!!
> 
> Only one translation this time around (again, from ROMLEX):  
> pral - brother

It has been several hours since Charles Xavier announced the existence of a mutant nation to the world. It has been several hours since Victor Von Doom had raged at his family about the hypocrisy of the same Charles Xavier:

“How many times have they violated the borders of my country?” He had demanded. “How many times have they labelled me a tyrant? A dictator? How many times have they criticised Latveria? And now they want to create their own nation state? And with the likes of Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr and Apocalypse running it? And they have the nerve to demand recognition and membership from the United Nations? Recognition from _me_? I have never been so insulted in my life!”

Kristoff had understood his father’s anger – he understands the political ramifications of Krakoa’s existence (he is, after all, his father’s son) but it hadn’t escaped his notice that underneath his father’s anger there had also been… well, another emotion. If it were anyone else, he would call the emotion _fear,_ but this was Victor Von Doom and fear is not an emotion that registers for his father.

It is late evening now, and he is sitting in the family cemetery which is located far behind the Castle – so far from the Castle, in fact, that it is practically at the edge of the forest. A purposeful decision on his father’s behalf, he’s sure – Victor likes to leave the past in the past. There is only a scattering of graves in the cemetery; Victor’s parents, Kristoff’s own mother, Valeria and a few others who he supposes to be Boris’ relatives. The graves are mostly symbolic, anyhow – he guesses his mother is the only one actually buried here. Victor’s parents were buried soon after their death at the place the Zefiro were living at the time – he doubts his father even remembers where they were buried and is even more sure that he wouldn’t want to disturb their resting place.

“Kristoff.”

He turns to see his father striding towards him. As usual his walk is purposeful and strong. He is alone – Boris must be with Kristofer; Victor doesn’t like to leave him alone.

“Father,” He greets politely, without standing. He looks up at Victor, “Would you like to join me?”

His father seems to hesitate, before silently joining him on the stone bench. Kristoff tilts his head questioningly, “You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you? About this whole Krakoa thing?”

“Yes.”

“How bad is it?” He wonders aloud. “It must be bad, right? I _know_ it must be bad because earlier it was almost like you were scared of something.”

Victor doesn’t answer.

“I’ve been sitting out here thinking about that day… do you know what day I’m talking about?”

“Yes.” His father’s reply is short. He doesn’t elaborate.

“I was 12 and it was my mother’s birthday and I wanted to visit her grave, here.” Kristoff prompts, looking at Victor expectantly.

“I was busy with affairs of state… so I instructed Boris to take you instead.” His father continues for him, slowly – reluctantly. “The two of you were attacked out here by hired killers – somehow they had slipped through the Castle’s defences – one of them had a knife at Boris’ throat and the other had grabbed you with the intent on stealing you away from me.”

They had come out of nowhere, it had seemed. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, they had seized him by the waist and throat. Boris couldn’t reach him – a knife at his jugular – although he had tried once already only to be knocked down to his knees.

Kristoff had been terrified. He was sure he had never felt such terror – not even when he had seen his mother struck down in front of his eyes as a child. Back then, Victor had been there to protect him, but in that moment, he was all alone. His father had only just started teaching him sorcery at that point, and the terror made him unable to recite any spells that could have been useful.

“My Doombots alerted me to the presence of two unknowns on the Castle grounds,” Victor continues. “But when I arrived, there was only _you_ … in extreme distress. Boris was trying to comfort you, but you were almost hysterical. By your feet was what had once been your would-be abductor… he was unrecognizable as a man _and_ as a human being. All that remained was a charred _pile_.”

He didn’t know how it had happened. One minute his abductor had been trying to drag him kicking and screaming away from his grandfather… the next the man had been the one screaming. Except his screams were ones of unimaginable pain, screams of fire and brimstone, of _torture_. Whilst the man screamed, Kristoff had choked on the smell of burning flesh. When he looked down, one of his hands had been grasped around the wrist of his abductor. Somehow, _he_ was the one causing the pain.

“I killed him.”

“Yes.”

Kristoff stares at his mother’s gravestone. She had brought him into this world, yet she had only spent five years with him. So little time, really. Victor must think the same of his own mother, for she died when he was young too. And look how much he has done on her behalf? He wonders if Victor’s mother is proud of all he has achieved – all he has done for their country. Is his own mother proud of him? But what has he achieved that is deserving of pride? No. He doubts she is proud. But she must be happy – happy that her death did not render him an orphan, happy that he is part of a family when it had only ever just been the two of them, happy that their country is not the mess it was when she died.

“You told me that what had happened was the result of a protection spell you cast on me,” He reminds his father, turning to face him. “But you lied, didn’t you?”

“I thought I was being truthful at the time,” Victor admits, sounding sincere enough. “But when I found out the truth later on… I omitted it from you.”

He thinks back to his father’s anger and fear earlier, at hearing of Krakoa’s existence. The anger had been directed at Charles Xavier, for his hypocrisy and audacity. But the fear… the fear had been for what?

_The fear had been for me. For our family. Because the X-Men wanted every mutant in the world to come and live on Krakoa, and somehow… somehow that would have included me._

“You took a sample of my blood, later – when I had calmed down. You told me that you wanted to make sure that that man hadn’t been able to poison me somehow. But you were lying. You were testing me for the X-Gene.”

His father makes a sound that would almost pass as amusement in any other situation, “My son thinks he knows everything, hmm?”

Kristoff smiles slightly, “Well, I _am_ my father’s son.”

“Indeed.” Victor is quiet for a moment. “The results came back positive – you were in possession of an active X-Gene.”

“ _Were_? Past tense?”

“It did not affect us greatly in Latveria so perhaps you do not remember,” His father says. “Merely a few days after I realised what you were, the Scarlet Witch depowered a significant majority of the world’s mutants. When the news reached us here, I took another sample of your blood; lo and behold – any presence of the X-Gene had disappeared completely, and you registered as completely human.”

He contemplates that. _How odd_ , he thinks, _that there was a time I was anything other than what I am now – and I wasn’t even aware._

“If that is true,” He says, slowly. “Then I don’t understand what you’re worried about.”

“Forgive me if I gave the impression that the story was finished.” His father says wryly.

“Oh.”

“Surely you can cast your mind back to a time a few years past when the same woman responsible for what the mutants call _‘M-Day’_ was living with us here?”

Victor refers to the Scarlet Witch in a detached manner – as if Wanda Maximoff had merely resided in the Castle arbitrarily and not because she was going to marry him. Kristoff understands, though. His father had torn that potential future up into a billion pieces and then set them alight as a precaution. _Such a shame_ , he thinks, _I liked Wanda_.

“When her powers and memories returned to her,” His father tells him. “She was able to restore the abilities of depowered mutants… the X-Men’s arrogance prevented them from taking that chance, but even I can humble myself on occasion if it is for my child.”

He furrows his brow, “So…”

“So?” Victor demands, impatient. “So, you can see why I am worried.” His father waves his arm as if to materialise his problems. “I allowed the restoration of your X-Gene because I saw it as extra protection for you – God knows it had already saved your life once and that was done unconsciously.”

Truly Kristoff cannot understand his father. How is being a mutant supposed to protect him if he doesn’t even know he _is_ a mutant? And now he leaves it to this uncertain time to spring it on him? “What was even the point, father? You had my powers restored for _what_? So I could protect myself? How did you imagine that to work when you never even bothered to tell me they existed in the first place! And I know you – you would have kept it a secret forever if this whole Krakoa business hadn’t forced you to dredge it up!”

“Do not snap at me, Kristoff – you are better than some petulant child.”

“What did you expect!” He demands. There’s a sudden fury building up inside him like an inferno. “You have kept this secret from me since I was 12! And for _what_?” He pauses to take a breath. “No – don’t answer that. I know why. You wanted to keep me here, away from other mutants because you were scared that I’d realise they were my people instead of–”

“ _Your_ people?” His father is incredulous, but his voice is edged with poison. “Your people are Latverian and Romani and they reside _here_ – in Latveria. Did you think I would risk telling you of your heritage only for you to go gallivanting off with the idiots who call themselves mutantkind? For you to join the X-Men and be slaughtered like any other child who joins their ranks; reduced to cannon fodder? Or to follow Magneto so you can live under the guise of superiority only to be felled by those who are _truly_ superior? No. You are my son and so help me God I would rather have you live in ignorance than to be indoctrinated into the death-trap that calls itself _Homo superior_.”

Victor takes a breath, but Kristoff is shocked into silence. And then, quietly, “Do you think so little of me that you’d believe I’d abandon our home and our family?”

Victor does not apologise, “You were only a child – plenty of mutant children have been swayed by the ideals of Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr – I was merely protecting you from their manipulations.”

“I am not so easily manipulated.” He tells his father fiercely. “If that’s what you’re scared of now, you’re being ridiculous – I was just a kid then, I get it – but I’m old enough now to realise that fighting for the mutant cause is a wasted one. What did you think? That Charles Xavier and Magneto would turn up on our doorstep and ask me to join them on Krakoa and I’d just go with them willingly?”

“Willingly?” His father repeats, astonished. “Perhaps you forget that Charles Xavier is a telepath of dubious morals – I can think of no other explanation for why the mutants of the world, friend and foe alike, have banded together to carve a piece of the world out for themselves when previously so many of them were against such an idea. As I said – the man is a hypocrite and, no doubt, the cause of this sudden face-heel turn of the X-Men.”

He laughs silently, “I doubt Charles Xavier would bother with me, father – neither of us even know what my powers are.”

“You are the son of Doom and the heir to Latveria, and _they_ are creating a nation who needs allies. Do not undersell yourself.”

“I guess,” He allows – frankly he thinks his father is being a tad dramatic but that _is_ his natural state, after all.

A moment’s silence. Then, “As for your powers I suppose we will have to experiment ourselves to work out their nature. Better for you if we find out how to master them quickly, whatever they are – I fear the peace you have enjoyed as a mutant will soon be interrupted. Krakoa will come knocking sooner or later, if they have not come for you it will be for the other mutants in our country. And I am willing to part with neither.”

* * *

When he was 12, he incinerated a man with mutant powers he didn’t know existed. As his father tells it, he only had those powers for a couple of days before the Scarlet Witch depowered him and millions of other mutants on Earth. Fast forward a few years later and they were restored to him, although his father deemed it fit to not mention this development to him. As a result, he and Victor have only the single manifestation of his powers to go off as they try and test the boundaries of them.

Today they are in part of the Latverian School of Science, which is adjacent to the Castle. His father created it for those who excel in the sciences although it is also a school for supernatural students and, apparently, mutants.

The part of the school they’re in is a sort of training room – it’s empty of furnishings and the walls are bare. There are no students using the room at the moment because his father has claimed use of it for the foreseeable future. If the students find this odd, they don’t say anything about it – Victor Von Doom is both their sovereign and headmaster.

“Try again.”

Kristoff looks at his father, exasperated – “ _Again_?”

Clapping fills the room and he turns his gaze to his younger brother Kristofer, seated by his father’s feet. The child is clapping, which is his version of verbal agreement, as the boy is mute and unable to speak. He speaks with his signs, of course, but they are useless unless Kristoff is already looking at him. “You want me to try again too, huh?”

_“Yes.”_ Kristofer signs out the word sharply – he is pouting slightly with impatience.

His brother seems quite fascinated with Kristoff’s newfound powers – even if Kristoff himself hasn’t quite figured them out yet.

“Fine – but only because _you_ want me to,” He tells Kristofer with a grin before turning back to his father. “Definitely not because _you_ keep nagging me to.”

Victor takes no notice of his words, merely waving his hand to indicate he should go again.

Based on what happened when his powers first manifested, Kristoff has the ability to generate extreme heat with his body; with no ill effect to himself. He has spent the last hour or so heating various metals until they reach their melting point. His father is trying to work out the upper limits of his powers; how much heat can he create?

His father makes a gesture and speaks some words; Kristofer gapes in wonder at the hunk of metal that materialises in Victor’s hand.

Kristoff squints, “Is that… _gold_?”

“24 karat.”

He wonders how much the price of gold is at the moment – probably never low enough to warrant melting pure gold for no real purpose.

“So… what?” He asks Victor. “1050°C? For the melting point of gold?”

“1064.18°C,” His father corrects absentmindedly, passing the lump of gold over to him.

Kristoff’s hands are hot to the touch – from his fingers to his elbow is basically the equivalent of an open flame. His father doesn’t need to be careful; his skin is protected by his armour.

Suddenly, Kristofer lunges excitedly towards him – his eyes on the metal in Kristoff’s hands. He tries to jerk back but Kristofer’s hand grips his wrist, nevertheless. _Oh God,_ he thinks, _oh my God._

His brother can’t verbally express his pain, but his mouth contorts into a silent scream anyhow.

Kristoff _actually_ screams.

Urgently, Victor hauls Kristofer bodily away by the back of his shirt. It’s a violent action born of panic and fear. The boy is breathing heavily with tears streaming down his cheeks – he looks so _confused_.

“Don’t touch your brother when he’s using his powers!” Victor’s voice comes out in a harsh snap, and Kristofer flinches slightly. “You silly child! You’ve hurt yourself!”

His father doesn’t seem to notice that he has scared Kristofer – instead reaching out to touch the burns on his hand. He murmurs a simple healing spell under his breath, and Kristoff breathes a sigh of relief as he watches the raw redness recede.

Victor’s panic also calms down when he sees Kristofer’s hand healing. _Was he thinking of his own burns? His own pain? His own scars?_

“Master?”

The three of them turn to see Zora standing awkwardly in the doorway – no doubt she was alerted by Kristoff screaming.

“Zora,” His father greets politely. He glances down at how he has Kristofer cradled against his chest like a swaddled baby, before making eye contact with Zora again. “Give Kristoff and I the room – take Kristofer to his grandfather.”

Zora agrees silently, moving into the room to take Kristofer away from his father. The child struggles slightly in her arms, forcing her to set him down on the floor. He refuses to hold her hand and walk alongside her – instead running away out of the open doorway. The young woman has no choice but to follow him quickly, lest he get lost in the unfamiliar school.

Belatedly, he realises he’s still grasping the solid gold. Angrily he throws it across the room where it hits the wall with a loud _thump_. His father watches him silently.

“Kristoff,” Victor says calmly. “This was only a minor incident – an accident, even. Try not to let this dishearten you – we were making steady progress with your powers. I hope you do not let this hold you back.”

“ _Progress_?” He demands angrily, gesturing to the doorway Kristofer just ran out of. “My baby brother just ran away from me in _tears_! He tried to touch me, and I gave him fucking second-degree burns!”

“Anger helps no-one, Kristoff.” His father tells him, moving closer. He places his hands on his shoulders – Kristoff restrains the urge to break away. “Kristofer suffered for barely a minute. He was scared and he ran away – a perfectly natural reaction. We will find him later and explain what happened. Explain that sometimes he may need to be careful when he touches you. It will be fine. He will understand, and this accident will fade away in his mind.”

_It won’t fade in my mind_ , he thinks.

“It’s easy for _you_ to say that – you weren’t the one who hurt him!” A sudden, visceral anger burns up inside him, directed at his father. “You know what? _Maybe_ if I’d known about my powers earlier, I’d know everything about them by now! I’d know how to control every single aspect of them – and _maybe_ something like this would never have happ–”

He cuts off in shock at the sudden _whoosh_ of flame that ignites his entire right arm. The orange flames leap up and down his skin violently. He feels no pain, just a sort of tingling sensation; it’s an odd feeling.

His father lets out an actual _laugh_ , “What did I tell you, hmm? _Progress_.”

* * *

Outside his window, night is just falling into place. The stars are already visible – Latveria produces little light pollution. Kristoff himself is just lying in his bed. He’s been struggling to fall asleep; instead drifting in and out of consciousness. The day’s events preoccupy his mind.

Kristofer had stayed out of his way for the rest of the day – taking lessons with Boris and his tutors somewhere else in the Castle. Usually he took lessons in the library and Kristoff would sit in on them. _Is he scared of me_ , he frets, _is dad wrong – will he never forget?_

His bedroom door creaks open. He jumps.

When he sees that it is Kristofer, he smiles widely.

“You can come in, _pral_.” He tells his brother, gesturing to come further into the room.

Kristofer looks at him warily, _“No burning?”_

Tears burn at the corner of his eyes, but he swipes a hand across his face quickly, “No burning. I promise.”

His brother eyes him for a couple of seconds before accepting his words and coming into the room. He shuts the door behind him quietly.

It is times like these when he can tell that Kristofer is a clone of his father. The child is standing in the middle of the room glaring at him with a frown on his face. He imagines that Victor, too, often has that expression when dealing with him. _“You hurt me,”_ Kristofer signs jerkily. _“Say sorry!”_

Just like their father, Kristofer does not ask for things – he demands them. Not in a malicious way, of course, but in a childish naïve way – the way any child would act, really.

He pulls himself out of bed and moves towards his brother. Kristofer watches him carefully but does not retreat to the doorway. His slight body is rigid with tension and Kristoff regrets that his little brother ever had occasion to be scared of him. _Do all mutants feel like this? Have they all hurt loved ones by accident? Have they all seen fear in the eyes of those they love?_

Kristoff reaches his brother, and crouches in front of him so that he is eye-level with him. “Kristofer.” He says, and the boy watches him intently. “Do you know what happened earlier?”

_“You hurt me.”_

“That was an accident – you… you can’t touch me when I’m using my powers, okay? When I’m using my powers, Kristofer, my skin is really hot and if you touch it, you’ll get burnt. That’s what happened earlier. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but you reached for me suddenly and I… I can’t turn them off immediately. I’m sorry.”

Kristofer takes a moment to absorb this, nodding thoughtfully before signing at him: _“It hurts you?”_

He shakes his head, “I’m… I’m a mutant and, well, it’s my power so it doesn’t affect me ‘cos my body is adapted to it.”

_“I don’t understand.”_

_Neither do I,_ he wants to say. Instead: “It’s new to me, too. Mutant are supposed to come into their powers in their early teens – which I did, apparently – but Dad kept it a secret from me. He likes secrets – you’ll catch onto that pretty fast, I’m sure.”

Kristofer studies him. It occurs to him suddenly that it is quite late, and that the boy should surely be in bed. He doesn’t mention it, of course. Like any child, Kristofer is not fond of people reminding him that he has a bedtime. _“I forgive you.”_ His brother signs eventually, moving past him towards the bed. Kristoff stands up to his full height and watches his brother pull himself up onto his covers.

_“Tell me about dad’s secrets?”_ Kristofer looks innocuous – he is quite adept at maintaining a visage of innocent curiosity; he suspects Victor was the same as a child. It comes naturally to some children – Valeria Richards is the prime example that he can think of. Kristoff is certainly not a good example – secrets and cunning were something he knew little of as a child. These were lessons Victor instilled into him; certainly not the type of lessons he would have received from a normal education.

He moves and sits next to Kristofer on his own bed. “How would I know about them?” He asks, “If they are secrets?”

Kristofer contemplates that, _“Face is secret?”_

He raises his eyebrows, “Not to you. It was for me until the day I met you.” He’s _not_ jealous. Not at all.

_“Why does he hide?”_

“Truthfully? I dunno – not really. He’s sensitive about it. I don’t like to ask.”

Kristofer scowls, “ _I do not like the mask.”_

That makes him laugh, “Yeah, I know.” How can he not know – when Kristofer is so vocal about it?

Sometimes his brother will get very frustrated with Victor. He will clap and stamp and bang things and make all the noise he physically can. He will sign sharply and impatiently and angrily: _“No Doom! No Doom!”_ And then he will demand: _“Where is dad?”_ and he will tug on Victor’s cloak if he’s wearing one. If not, he will hit his father’s armour which creates a hollow metal sound that is thoroughly annoying.

Frankly, he is impressed – his brother is much braver than he was at the same age. He supposes that for Kristofer, Victor has only ever been his father, unlike himself who had known him first as Master and King.

In his opinion, his father did not truly think through the pros and cons of bringing Kristofer into this world. Pros: now he has two sons, the heir and the spare _~~(but which one is which?)~~_. Cons: the child is essentially Victor with all his stubbornness and impatience. Unlike Boris and himself, Victor has never had to deal with his own negative aspects. _This is karma in its purest form,_ he thinks.

Kristofer turns to him, a sly look on his face, _“Do you have secrets?”_

“I don’t think so,” He lies. “If I do, then I probably don’t realise it – like the whole being a mutant thing.”

Does he have secrets? Sure – only one, and it’s the biggest one imaginable. It probably wouldn’t matter if Kristofer knew – how could he understand the magnitude of it, really? But better safe than sorry.

_“You are lying,”_ Kristofer signs. _“That is okay – you will tell me one day.”_

* * *

Disregarding all jealousy, Kristoff is fond of Zora Vukovic. She is his friend, his elder (by a couple of years) and, hopefully soon, he may refer to her as his sister without her making an awkward expression in response. She is unsure of her place with his family – understandable considering that his family is hardly traditional. Understandable, and frankly, relatable.

Occasionally he wonders what become of Zora’s family – he has never heard mention of them. Perhaps she is an orphan, like he himself once was.

“You have powers, right?” He asks Zora one day. It is about a week since the incident with Kristofer, and things have returned to normal as far as he can tell. He is still a mutant. Krakoa still exists. His father is still angry at its existence. These are staples of the past week.

He and Zora are sitting atop the ramparts of the Castle; behind the parapet. There is a low wooden bench along the inside of the parapet which his father uses to stand on if he is feeling particularly dramatic. Today he and Zora are using it as a seat.

“Powers?” She tilts her head in consideration. “Yes. I suppose so – they’re not like yours, though – they are not natural. But they’re not… not sorcery.” Zora has a hard time getting herself to pronounce words such as sorcery and the like. He thinks perhaps she has religious tendencies that give her preconceptions of the mystic arts. Perhaps she thinks her Master slaughters animals for sacrifice, or even humans. _Well,_ he considers, _most religions have done those things too, so really what would be the difference?_ His father doesn’t do those things anyway – that is not how sorcery works. Although if it was, he’s sure Victor Von Doom would not shy away from a sacrifice now and again. He would probably make a spectacle of it, like the Aztecs did.

“How _did_ they come about?” He inquires politely. He hadn’t been around for that time, of course.

Zora grimaces, “Through great pain.” Her face shies after she realises what she has said, though she does not take it back. He gets the impression that she is intimidated by him. Well, not him – per say – because he is generally not very intimidating, he will admit. No. More likely she is intimidated by his position which is ironic as he holds no official position in his father’s government. He is Victor Von Doom’s son and no more. He is okay with that though – that is all he needs.

“I’m sorry,” He tells her, and he means it too. He knows that Victor must have led Zora into this life blindly – if there was pain to be had his father would have seen it as a necessity, a sacrifice, and not worth mentioning. He suspects that pain is trivial to his father these days; a footnote. For everyone else – of course – that is not true at all. “My father is immune to pain by now, I think. He forgets that it is normal for others and he’ll overlook it in order to achieve his goals.”

“I have made my peace with it,” Zora tells him. “He gave me power, and he took our country back from those would have done us harm – who had already done us harm. Pain is nothing, really, when lined up against that.”

He sees how Boris thought Zora and Victor to be similar in temperament. He sees it too.

* * *

It is times like these when he wonders how his life has come to this.

He is siting politely at a dinner table under a modest pavilion that has been erected on the beach of his father’s self-proclaimed ‘Doom Island’.

In the weeks past his father has been preparing for war. This latest move on his father’s chessboard involved building an entire town on an island he already owned to house the mutant population of Latveria. A thousand or so mutants and their families have been relocated to protect them and Latveria if Krakoa were to attack. That means for the time being, he is living on the island too. He doesn’t mind too much – the climate and surroundings are definitely a welcome change from Latveria’s, which seem perpetually mild and if not mild – freezing.

Kristoff is proud that he managed to convince his father to let mutants who wanted to live on Krakoa to do so. Of course, there is no Krakoan gateway in Latveria, so Silver Sablinova had taken them across the border to Symkaria. Silver is their main point of contact with their neighbour Symkaria – she is the leader of a mercenary group which means she doesn’t raise any eyebrows when contacted for shady favours.

His father had seemed more open than he thought he would be to the idea, though probably not for altruistic reasons: “If their loyalty is to Krakoa and not Latveria, then they are no subjects of mine – I want no fifth column in my country.”

He had shrugged, whatever his father’s reasoning it had led to the outcome he had desired.

He was less successful in convincing Victor to stop referring to the island as Doom Island. As the second sanest member of his family (Boris is, of course, the sanest) he had objected to the name. It will give people the wrong impression, he had told Victor. Victor had replied that he didn’t want any uncertainty as to who owned the island.

_Well_ , he thinks, _there is certainly no confusion now_.

About an hour ago, a vessel had come too close to the island and as a result had been caught in his father’s defence mechanisms. Defence mechanisms are a polite way of saying _a bunch of giant metal limbs_ which had sprung out of the water, grasped the boat and lifted it out of the ocean. Victor had gone aboard to see who would dare come close to _his_ island – not that the passengers would have known the island was even there, as his father had hidden it from the world.

The vessel had been the Marauder.

Kristoff is half-convinced that his father would have destroyed the ship then and there if he hadn’t had discovered that the Marauder was harbouring two stowaways on board – Franklin and Valeria Richards; his ~~nephew and niece~~ ‘cousins’.

Victor had been so surprised to have stumbled across Reed Richards’ children in the middle of the ocean that he’d put aside his grievances with the X-Men for the moment and brought everyone ashore. Well – Franklin and Valeria had been brought ashore whilst the X-Men had been drugged unconscious and stored safely away in the Castle until Doom was ready to deal with them.

So now Kristoff is waiting patiently at a large dinner table whilst his cousins sit across from him – dressed in their Fantastic Four uniforms – barely concealing their excitement as they watch Doom’s robotic servants pile food onto the table. The two of them seem to have taken it in their stride that they’re now sitting for a meal with Doctor Doom on an island they didn’t previously know existed. _They’ve probably had weirder experiences,_ he muses.

Also present at the table is his father, of course, and Kitty Pryde of the X-Men – the captain of the Marauder; whom is only just now waking up from unconsciousness.

“It’s okay, Kitty – don’t freak out.” Franklin reassures the woman as she looks around in bewilderment, having woken up sitting at a table when the last thing she must remember is her ship being attacked.

His father ignores Kitty, instead turning to Valeria, “ _Now_ we can eat.”

“ _Finally_!” She laughs, grabbing a chicken leg from her plate and biting straight into it with a grin.

Kitty, unfortunately, doesn’t seem so easily reassured by Franklin.

“Doom!” She struggles to rise from her chair, pushing herself up with the table. Her hands grip it tightly – her knuckles turning white – but her arms are shaking violently. She doesn’t have the energy to get up – the drugs still in her system – so she soon collapses uselessly back into her seat.

“I sat you down for a reason,” Victor tells her, amused and unthreatened. “Perhaps you should follow my goddaughter’s example, hmm?” He gestures to Valeria who waves her chicken leg in the air with enthusiasm. “Have something to eat?”

The woman scowls, “I’ve already been drugged once today, so I’d rather not.”

Doom allows that, “Very well.”

The food isn’t drugged, of course, but his father seems to commend Kitty’s wariness.

Kitty’s eyes brighten with memory, suddenly – “The mutants!”

“What about mutants?” Franklin asks, puzzled.

“We were… there were some mutant refugees out on the water…” Kitty’s expression contorts into horror and fury. “What did you _do_ to them!”

“I find your insinuations insulting, Katherine.” His father says shortly. “I’ve only ever been a benevolent hand when it comes to mutantkind.”

Kitty stares Doom down, “I don’t care if you’re insulted. You know the drill – mutants are allowed free passage to Krakoa from anywhere.”

“Any Latverian mutants who wished to join your quaint island nation have done so already,” Doom tells her. “But the mutants you detected at sea were not lost – they were home, here, in a spot invisible to the world – _Doom Island_.” Innocuously, he adds: “I can understand how you would make the mistake.”

Kitty doesn’t seem to know how to react to this news which, frankly, must seem very odd to her.

Valeria laughs, however, “Uncle Doom, it’s very obvious you’re hiding something!” His cousin doesn’t seem concerned, though, and continues eating. She, of course, is used to his father’s scheming and planning and must realise that she isn’t in any danger from whatever Doom has concocted this time around. In fact, this is probably the first time Valeria has seen his father since she and her family came back to Earth.

“Valeria’s right,” Kitty says, crossing her arms and staring at Doom. “Why aren’t your country’s mutants in Latveria? Why aren’t _you_?”

“It is clear to me – and anyone with _eyes_ – that this new paradigm shift will only result in _war_. The protection of Latveria is my priority, of course, and so to remove the target I relocated my mutant citizens here; as I previously informed you, those who wished to leave for Krakoa had already done so. And frankly I loathed to give you even _that_ courtesy, but I am not unreasonable and so you have my son to thank for convincing me otherwise.”

Doom waves vaguely in Kristoff’s direction as he says this, and Kitty seems to notice him for the first time. Her brow furrows in confusion and a sort of shock – it is more than likely that she was unaware Doctor Doom _had_ any children.

His father continues, “This island is where I go when I do not wish to involve Latveria _proper_ in my plans. Such as my new one – to help Franklin Richards be all that he can be.”

Franklin looks shocked.

“Wait,” Kristoff speaks up, confused. “What’s wrong with Franklin?”

Kristoff had stayed with Franklin and his family for a couple of months not even that long ago. He racks his brain – had there been anything wrong with him then? Something tugs at his memory. _Something about his powers?_

His cousin shifts in his seat, “My powers… they’re uh… I dunno – fading, I guess. The more I use them, the more they deplete. No one seems to know why.”

“Don’t forget what your father did to your genetics, Franklin.” Doom adds, calmly.

Franklin clenches his jaw. Kristoff can’t really tell how he’s feeling – he seems angry but also sad, and even sort of embarrassed. “Dad… he did something to my X-Gene – he created some device to mask it so I couldn’t use the Krakoan gates.”

Kristoff is surprised, sort of – but hardly shocked. Reed Richards and Victor Von Doom are opposite sides of the same coin, when it comes to their children, all ethical and moralistic considerations are shoved aside. Frankly, he’s mostly concerned that his father will follow Reed’s example in this and do something similar to _him_. The last thing Victor needs is to be given ideas.

“Well,” He says, cautiously. “I’d hardly call that a loss, really.”

His father laughs, “Indeed.” He stands up, and gestures for everyone else to do the same. “However, I can understand Franklin’s… anger. It is a great injustice to have one’s physiology changed without one’s permission. And on this occasion, even more so. To create an item that targets a specific species – that would target _mutants_. That is simply abhorrent behaviour.”

Victor seems greatly offended on Franklin’s behalf. He wonders if that offence is genuine or not. He thinks perhaps it is – not really for mutants specifically, maybe – but his father is a scientist, and he can easily see how something that seems on the surface harmless could be transformed into a weapon against an entire race. In that respect, perhaps Victor feels some sort of solidarity, because he was persecuted in a similar way as a child.

“Katherine,” His father says, beckoning her. “Come, I will take you to see your teammates – I know you must be worried for their fate, but they are fine, I swear to you.”

Kitty looks suspicious but follows as Doom turns on his heel and stalks away into the direction of the Castle. He follows suit, as do Franklin and Valeria.

His cousins walk at his father’s heel, but he and Kitty are slightly behind them.

The path to the Castle from the beach passes through the town that has been built on the island. It is exactly in the style of Latveria, to foster a sense of home, but also because his father subscribes to only one aesthetic and does not often stray from it. The streets are empty – the people who live here usually have been warned to stay inside because the island has visitors. They are used to such commands – they are Latverians and Latveria is invaded by some hero or other over a dozen times a year.

His father is conversing with his cousins when Kitty abruptly asks him, “What’s your dad’s opinion on mutants?”

The question throws him. What _is_ his father’s opinion on mutants?

Victor doesn’t hate them as a species – this he is sure of. As a scientist he is mostly fascinated with their genetics and their position on the evolutionary chain. Perhaps there is an aspect of bitterness there, that Victor himself was not blessed with this evolutionary gift. Though, of course, his father sees himself as superior to everyone regardless, so it probably does not weigh too heavily on his mind if there is jealousy there.

For most, the hatred of mutants stems from their fear of them and what they can do – from seeing them as a threat. His father has never appeared to be particularly threatened by them or their abilities. Or, at least, he didn’t used to be. Now the situation is different, Kristoff supposes. Before, mutants were spread around the globe and if they had a concentrated group anywhere, it was in America – the X-Men – and they were busy fighting to protect themselves, so they had no energy to expend on fighting anyone else. But now they have banded together – the majority of the mutants in the world all living together on Krakoa, with gates in virtually every country that only _they_ can use, creating the capacity to move whole armies across the world in seconds. _That_ is a threat to his father.

_Did he have a different opinion on mutants? Before he found about me?_ He’s not sure. For as long as he can remember his father has worked alongside the likes of Magneto and Namor – both of them mutants. He has never had quarrel with mutants – the X-Men, yes, but not because they were mutants. He’s always hated Magneto’s superiority, of course, because he can suffer no one seeing themselves above him. In Victor’s world, Doom is God and everyone else are sheep.

“If he hates any mutant,” He replies, slowly. “It’s because he takes quarrel with them personally – not because they’re mutants.”

He’s not sure what else to say, really. Whatever he says, Kitty is hardly going to trust Doom beyond the slight allowance she is giving him now – and that is only because he has forcibly brought her ashore and captured her teammates.

Kitty is silent as they walk for a couple more minutes. Then, “I didn’t know Doom had a son.”

“I’m one of his better kept secrets, I suppose.” Well he is, but not in the way she assumes. The ignorance of the X-Men is hardly his concern. Perhaps they should have researched the families of those in power across the world before they created a new nation on a whim.

“Magneto knows of me, and Namor.” He offers when she doesn’t immediately reply. Magneto doesn’t know he’s a mutant, of course. _And thank God for that,_ he thinks, _otherwise where would I be now? Being chased like Franklin? Or already indoctrinated like Kitty?_

Kitty frowns, “We’re not exactly on good terms with Namor right now.”

He smiles, “A shame.” His father, on the other hand, is finally making a rapprochement with Namor after that unpleasantness between the two of them a few years back now – when Namor had begged for help and his father had cruelly rejected him. _Unpleasantness_ , Kristoff calls it; Boris would call it a lovers tiff. His grandfather is very observant.

An odd look crosses Kitty’s face, “But who is your –”

“I’m adopted.” He says shortly, because it is clear where her train of thought was going. She was probably disgusted, trying to think of a reason someone would possibly sleep with his father – let alone have a child with him. _Well,_ he thinks, _that was her mistake – Victor does not sleep with anyone, he is completely disinterested in sexual relationships._

With that, their conversation seems to come to a close. He walks on, catching up with his father and cousins.

“–Dad is… I mean…” Franklin struggles for words.

Valeria grins, “He’s _wildly_ invasive and untrusting.” She smiles up at his father, “Not at all like you, eh, Uncle Doom?”

“ _Ah_ , Valeria. How I’ve missed you.” Victor tells her fondly – and Kristoff suspects his father may even be _smiling_ under his mask.

* * *

Later, and his father has made an agreement with Kitty Pryde to fix Franklin’s powers – in return he wishes for the X-Men to respect his sovereignty whilst on his island and to not interfere with the mutants living here. It is such a little thing that Victor has asked for that Kristoff knows his father has already concocted a way for the X-Men to fall through on this promise – it is merely a matter of time.

Whilst Victor prepares his machinery for the process to restore Franklin’s powers – Kristoff stands with his cousins on the balcony of the Castle. Franklin and Valeria are discussing whether they can trust Doom to fix Franklin’s powers – a valid question, and one whose answer even he is unsure of.

“Can I tell you guys something?” He blurts out suddenly, eyes widening in regret as soon as the question escapes his mouth.

Valeria and Franklin exchange a cautious look – perhaps they think he is going to tell them outright that they can’t trust his father.

“So, uh… I found out something about myself recently – something pretty major I guess.” He should probably stop talking, but he can’t. He hasn’t had anyone else to discuss this with since he found out, not really. And his cousins are _right there_ – who knows when he’ll be able to talk with them again, with all that his father is planning? And it will be nice to have someone who’ll understand; Franklin is the only mutant in his family too.

Valeria squints at him, studying his face: “Are you gay or something? ‘Cos if that’s what you’re gonna say there’s really no need for you to be so cloak and dagger – we won’t care, right Franklin?”

“Uh, right.” Franklin looks blindsided – Kristoff knows how he feels.

He stares at Valeria in complete bewilderment, “What? No! I was gonna say that I’m a mutant, apparently, but _thank you_ for jumping the gun there.”

“ _What!_ ”

Evidently this was the last thing Franklin and Valeria were expecting.

“You’re joking, right, I mean–”

“What do you mean _apparently_ , how can–”

The two of them talk over each other loudly.

He grimaces, “Okay, uh, just like… one at a time, please.”

Franklin and Valeria share a glance – silently they decide that Franklin will speak. “I don’t understand – you’re like… nearly an adult – mutations manifest during puberty and sometimes even younger than that. How could you have only just realised?”

Valeria pipes up after him, “Yeah like not to be rude, Kristoff… but are you sure Uncle Doom hasn’t just messed around with your genetics or something?”

He scowls at her for that, though he supposes it’s a perfectly valid question. Perhaps he would even think that himself, had he not inadvertently killed a man when his powers first manifested years ago.

“When I was twelve years old,” He tells them, slowly. “Someone tried to kidnap me from the Castle grounds – they’d grabbed me and were dragging me away, and another man was gonna kill Boris. I was helpless and scared and then my powers manifested, and I… I _killed_ the man who had grabbed me.”

Franklin and Valeria’s eyes widen in shock. _Are they scared of me,_ he wonders – and then, desperately: _I didn’t mean to… it was an accident_.

“But that was ages ago,” Franklin tells him, confused – considering him with a tilt of his head as if they have never met before. “How could you have only found out recently?”

He’s about to answer but Valeria’s eyes widen in understanding and she cuts in, “It was M-Day, right? When loads of mutants lost their powers? That must have happened around the same time your powers manifested?”

He nods, “Only a few days after – and by then dad had already explained away what had happened. But he said that when the Scarlet Witch stayed with us some years later, he asked her to restore my powers – and she did, but he never told me about it…”

“Until now.” Valeria surmises.

“Until now.” He agrees.

His cousins are silent for a couple of moments; Franklin looks him up and down in assessment, saying: “So… what can you do?”

He rubs the back of his neck, laughing nervously: “Dad and I have been trying to test my powers ‘cos we’re not sure, really, on the boundaries and stuff but, uh, I guess you could say that I can generate heat into my hands, or my arms… like I said, we’re not really sure.”

Valeria tilts her head in consideration, “How _much_ heat?”

He thinks of the burns on Kristofer’s hand which he got after only a touch, of melting pure metals… of _killing_ someone. He grimaces, “A lot, I mean… I killed someone with it, remember?” He feels the need to remind them of that – they need to be careful around him, he doesn’t want a repeat of what happened with Kristofer.

It occurs to him suddenly that he also needs to tell his cousins about the existence of his younger brother, but Kristofer is in Latveria at the moment so there’s no point in telling them now, when they can’t meet him.

“Can we see it?” Franklin asks – he’s very curious and seems to have forgotten about his own failing powers. “Actually… _can_ we even see anything? Or would we just see what happened to whatever you touch?”

“I mean… I can burn stuff,” He shrugs. “Sometimes there’s fire, sometimes there’s not.”

“Soooo that’s a yes?”

“Sure.”

He reaches out a hand to touch the grey brickwork of the Castle balcony; it’s warm to the touch because the sun has been shining all day on the island. He imagines it getting warmer. He imagines it getting _hotter_. He imagines it _burning_.

His hand tingles slightly. He doesn’t know how to describe the feeling – he doesn’t feel the heat he generates; he never does – so this slight tingling feeling is the only indication he gets that his powers are being used.

“Huh,” Valeria says, her eyes not leaving the bricks.

He looks down and grimaces – the brick he had touched is a chalkboard _black_. The surrounding bricks are scorched slightly, but still have an ounce of their original colouration. They’re also intact – the brick that is completely black has cracks running through it.

The three of them are silent for a few seconds, their eyes focused on the brickwork. He’s hoping that it won’t be visible from down below, otherwise he’ll have to explain to his father why he was scorching the walls of the Castle.

Silence, and then: “Do you think both our mutations came from Nathaniel Richards?”

His heart skips a beat.

Calmly (he’s _not_ panicking, not at all) he says, “What’s your granddad got to do with any of this?”

“Well, maybe he’s a carrier of the X-Gene and he passed it on to you, and to my dad – obviously it wasn’t expressed in _him_ , but he could have carried it too and passed it on to me.”

He stares at Franklin in shock, and a sort of horror, because _he knows_. He knows that Nathaniel Richards is his biological father.

His shock must be visible on his face because Franklin laughs, “Oh come on, Kristoff! Did you really think I didn’t know who your real dad was? I’m not an idiot!”

_How does he know? How does he know? How does he–_

Valeria.

He turns his attention on her, and – sure enough – she doesn’t meet his eyes. She looks completely innocent, which – of course – mean she’s done something wrong.

“Val!” He snaps, not sure if he feels betrayed or just angry. “That was a secret!”

Franklin caves, “Okay, yeah… _maybe_ it was Val who told me, but that doesn’t matter! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me yourself – I thought we were friends, or cousins, or whatever… _oh my God_ … are you my _uncle_?”

He ignores Franklin who appears to be having an existential crisis over how they’re related. _Been there, done that_ , he thinks.

“That was a _secret_ , Val! You weren’t supposed to tell anyone! That’s _literally_ the whole point of a secret!”

Valeria pouts, “You don’t understand how hard it was to keep that to myself, okay?”

“Oh, right, _I_ don’t understand how hard it is to keep a secret that is literally about _myself_ , huh?”

“Okay,” She allows. “Maybe I worded that wrong… but it’s only Franklin – he deserved to know!”

“Yeah!” Franklin pipes up. “You should have told me in the first place!”

“I didn’t even tell Val!” He explodes. “ _He_ told her – that nosy _bastard_ , it’s none of his business!”

“ _He_?” Franklin echoes. “Oh. You mean grandad. Well, I think it probably _is_ kinda his business… y’know, seeming he’s your dad and all.”

“Don’t say that!” He snaps. “He’s not my dad!”

A sudden, sharp feeling flares up in his hand and his cousins _gasp_ as a white flame engulfs his hand. Thankfully, he had never taken his hand away from the bricks as he had been leaning on the balcony wall whilst he spoke.

The brick that was already black and cracked, crumbles completely – almost throwing him off balance. The surrounding bricks that had only been scorched before follow suit. He’s left clutching rubble and he knows now that his father will certainly notice a chunk of the balcony wall blown out if he ever looks up when down below.

He stares at his hand in shock, and wills for the flame to go out. It sputters a few times, before dying down.

He tilts his head back, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry… I, uh, I didn’t mean for that to happen it just–”

“It’s fine,” Franklin cuts in. “Our powers react to our emotions, and they can be hard to control – believe me, I get it. And I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have said that about Nathaniel… I know that he’s not your dad – Doom is… even if he’s a supervillain or whatever.”

“And I’m sorry too,” Valeria adds, quietly. “I shouldn’t have told Franklin without asking you first – it wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Kristoff stares at them both – he loves them so much. Even if he was the only one who knew they were all actually related for years, Valeria had been the one to christen him her _cousin_ , and Franklin had followed suit. And for almost a year he had thought they were _dead_ and then it turned out that they weren’t, but he had still missed out on watching them grow up. And now they’re _here_ , with him again. _If I can trust them with one secret – that I’m a mutant – then I can trust them with this one._

“It’s okay,” He tells them, smiling. “Even if I don’t care about Nathaniel Richards – I still care about you two.”

Valeria smiles widely back.

Franklin grins, and says: “Does this mean I get to call you Uncle Kristoff?”

“No! Definitely not!”

**Author's Note:**

> Only one translation this time around (again, from ROMLEX):  
> pral - brother 
> 
> I'd like u all to know I wasn't completely wilding in regards to Kristoff's powers - in the House of M universe he has fire powers a la the Human Torch but also he has like these fire wings?? Idk it's wild, anyways, there's basis for my bullshit is what I'm saying


End file.
